THE SECOND WIFE
I was certain my ex-husband would leave that woman any day now. Ella wasnt from his worldtactless, flighty, a reckless adventurer. She was six years older than Victor, and though Ill admit she was attractive, always dressed with flair, she had a way of draping herself in mystery. But the moment she opened her mouth, that illusion shattered. Victor, my ex, was her oppositegentle, caring, steady. You might wonder why we divorced if he was such a saint. Well, that was my fault. Ill own that.
When we split, Victor threw himself into chaos. First, he dabbled in romance with a colleague, Gemma. Shed been making eyes at him for years, dreaming of becoming his wife. Gemma had a young son who needed a father, and she was eager to play the doting stepmother. She pampered Victorcooked him lavish meals, ironed his shirts to perfection, though she stopped short of tying his scarf for him. But Victor didnt want a mother; he had one already. The office fling lasted three months before he escaped her suffocating affection.
Then my best friend, Olivianow my former friendswooped in. Victor had always fancied her, though he thought I didnt notice. Free from husbands and children, Olivia was desperate for love. The moment she spotted cracks in our marriage, she became his shoulder to cry on. For a year, Victor drifted between her and the empty shell of our home. His savings drained into Olivias hands, and it seemed a wedding was imminent.
Then Ella appeared out of nowhere. They met through mutual friends who insisted they were perfect for each otherboth single, both with kids, why not give it a go? Victor confessed about Olivia. “A fiancée isnt a wife. She can be un-fiancéed!” Ella declared. Olivia was pushed aside. Ella dragged Victor to the registry office, moved in with her daughter, Lily, and took over his flat. By then, Victor and I had already sold our shared home.
Lily was fourteen thena handful. She gave her mother hell, constantly running off, too independent for her own good. Once married, Ella suggested Victors mother downsize from her two-bedroom flat to a one-bedder. “Itll be easier for you at your age,” she insisted. Victors mum agreed without a fuss, just to keep the peace. With the leftover money, Ella renovated Victors flat and registered herself and Lily there.
Ella was always in some scrapea stolen fur coat, a till shortage, snapping at a wealthy customer. Her boss tolerated it only because Victor quietly covered every loss. The moment the last repayment was made, Ella was sacked. Victor suggested she stay home. “Cheaper in the long run,” he said. Ella agreed but had no interest in knitting or baking. Instead, it was endless café meetups with friends, spa days, shopping sprees. Victor would come home to an empty house, fry himself an egg, and wait for his beloved. As they say, the wifes out feasting while the husband gnaws on bones.
Every summer, they toured Europe. Victor loved extravagantly and without restraint.
Years passed. Lily had a son at twentyno one knew who the father was. Ella took over raising the boy while Lily brought a parade of “daddies” home. It drove Victor mad. So Ella convinced him to buy Lily a flatpreferably a three-bedder. “A proper home will help her settle down,” she argued. Victor bought it. Lily did find a decent bloke who loved her and the boy, but Ella hated him. “Earns peanuts,” she whinged. She nagged until he left. Now Victor supports Ellas grandson, too.
Our daughter wanted her 30th birthday celebrated with her fractured family. Ella refused to let Victor go alone. She tagged along, and after a few glasses of wine, started boasting about the men she *really* fanciedruffians, tough guys. Victor, apparently, wasnt her type at all. Yet he was her golden ticket. “Pout a little, and hed bend over backwards. Life with him is a breeze!”
Bored of domesticity, Ella muscled into Victors business. Now hes borrowing from our son-in-law to stay afloat.
Thats love, I suppose.
Victor and Ella married twenty years ago. Theyre still together. I dont get it.
